


Black Roses aren't real (but you and I are)

by MorganBartonRomanoff



Series: Avengers Bingo 2020 [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Black Widow (Movie 2020), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Tension, Banter, Childhood Trauma, Deaf Clint Barton, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Flower Language, Humor, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Rivalry, Romance, Slow Burn, Some angst, i did research
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganBartonRomanoff/pseuds/MorganBartonRomanoff
Summary: When the beautiful redhead moves in across from Cupid's Flowers, Clint is thrilled. He is less so when he finds out that she is a florist too.They can't seem to have one normal conversation and she infuriates him every time they have to interact, but as they're forced to look at each other all day every day, they find something they have in common. Flowers. And then it's more than that.Part Four of my Natasha Romanov Bingo; Square filled - Florist AUPart Eight of my Avengers Bingo; Square filled - Rivalry
Relationships: Alexei Shostakov | Alexi Shostakov/Melina Vostokoff, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop, Clint Barton & Melinda May, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson, Clint Barton & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Kate Bishop & Natasha Romanov, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Phil Coulson/Melinda May, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov & Alexei Shostakov | Alexi Shostakov & Melina Vostokoff
Series: Avengers Bingo 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600987
Comments: 39
Kudos: 46
Collections: Natasha Bingo





	1. Basil, Orange Lilies and Petunias

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my friend Tea who beta-ed despite all the work she's buried under. You're the best.
> 
> Written for the Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020 by [natasharomanovbingo](https://natasharomanovbingo.tumblr.com) and for the Avengers Bingo 2020 by [avengersbingo](https://avengersbingo.tumblr.com).
> 
> This is more or less self-indulgent - I absolutely love AUs! And I've also been doing research for literal w e e k s! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Having a shop on a small street had a lot of advantages. A loyal clientele, peaceful atmosphere (as peaceful as New York City ever got) and, especially, less competition than a boulevard would provide.

Those were all factors Phil had considered carefully before buying off the shop over twenty years ago.

So, in all honesty, Clint found himself confused over the situation he’d found himself in. The situation _she’d_ put him in.

He glowered at the redhead moving in across the street. He was leaning on the counter with Lucky asleep at his feet, flowers and glass and distance obscuring her view toward him, but he scowled nonetheless.

For the past three weeks, he’d seen her walk in every morning at exactly nine and stay later than him. She’d cleared the space, painted the walls, started moving in. Up until then, he’d been curious, excited even, to finally meet her. She was stunning and he had eyes, but he kept his distance. Being cautious had never failed him before.

And then it all snapped into place. The powder pink walls, the dozen boxes she unpacked to display vase after vase after pot, colourful paper and ribbons. He felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Now, his intentions to play nice with the new neighbour were thrown out the window.

In the fifteen years he’d been at first helping his foster father and then taking care of the shop, there had never been another florist around. That was what made _Cupid’s Flowers_ so popular with the locals. They were close-by, they were reliable, and practically everyone in a four block radius knew them. Business was going great.

Until she’d shown up.

Clint didn’t even know her name and he already despised her. She hadn’t done anything to deserve such an attitude, the more logical part of him knew. But she was opening a flower shop right across from his. It was like she was mocking him, in a way.

The bell over the door jingled. Lucky raised his head sleepily and Clint’s attention shifted to whoever had entered. He sighed in indifference and went back to glaring through the window.

Kate stomped over and dropped her bag behind the counter next to the dog and bent down to scratch his head. Then she punched Clint in the arm.

“I’m sorry, am I not worthy of your attention?” she snarked with no real bite to her words. Clint sighed.

“Look at her,” he grumbled. “She didn’t even come and say ‘Hi, I’m setting up a flower shop across the street, hope it’s okay with you’.” Kate barked out a laugh.

“She’s not obliged to introduce herself to you, you know.” Clint finally turned to look at his best friend.

“It’s the neighbourly thing to do,” he huffed. Kate raised an eyebrow at him.

“The _neighbourly thing to do_ is to bring a welcome gift to the woman moving in, with whom you will have to share business and clients. Suck it up, Clinton, you’re a big boy.” He wrinkled his nose at her.

“Don’t call me that, _Katherine_.” She punched him again. He winced and rubbed the spot. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I only get a visit when you want something. What is it this time?”

She frowned at him. "I've known you for seven years. Don't you think I noticed your sour mood? I came for moral support." Clint spared her a suspicious glance. It was never so simple with her.

"Sure," he shrugged. She would tell him, eventually, when she felt ready to talk about it. They'd reached a stage in their friendship where they didn't need to verbalise their problems immediately. They knew they'd stick by each other's side, always.

They'd met just around the corner, with sixteen-year-old Kate fists deep in a fight with three guys Clint's age. He'd jumped right in to help her and then she'd yelled at him. She'd yelled at him for helping her, because _she could handle them on her own_. Clint had raised his hands apologetically and simply agreed. She hadn't looked like she needed help. He just hated bullies. Three to one wasn't a fair fight, not to mention how messed up fighting a girl in a dark alley was. He'd brought her to the shop so she could wash off the blood from her nose and chin. Phil had almost had a heart attack. He'd fussed and frowned, worrying like a mother hen. But the girl hadn't snapped at _him_ , she'd just smiled and waved off his worries. So Phil had done the next best thing. He'd offered her free self-defence classes. He'd been sure Mel wouldn't mind. (She hadn't.)

Seven years later, Kate was as close to their little patched-up family as if Phil and Melinda had officially adopted her. She and Daisy had gotten along like a house on fire since the moment they'd met at a family dinner a few months after Clint had first bumped into Kate, and he'd worried he wouldn't be able to handle both of them. Luckily for him, they were too busy with school to actively plan his misery.

"Do we have any events coming up?" Her voice brought him back to the present and he shook his head.

"No, but Pepper called me yesterday, remember Pepper? We went to college together. Anyway, she called yesterday, and apparently, she's getting married. Asked if we could cover the flower front." Kate nodded and Clint grinned wider. "You can't imagine the number she offered."

"You didn't tell her we have set prices?" He smirked at her easy use of _'we'_ and shrugged. He'd been trying to suck her into the family business along with Daisy, but Kate refused every time he brought it up. She was _busy_ , supposedly. Clint knew _busy_ usually meant she was hanging out with her other friend. He didn't really blame her, though.

"I tried. She insisted."

"Like you insist on being a hostile stubborn ass to the new florist?"

"She's the competition, Katie," he groaned. "Come on, let it go."

"No, _you_ let it go." She jabbed a finger in his chest. "She probably needs help and you're a generally helpful person. You are being childish. So what if she's doing the same thing as you? Maybe you can freshen things up a bit, attract more attention to our store instead of hers. Get creative, dude. Just, I don't know, just don't be an asshole."

She glided past him and headed for the door. "Katie," he called out but she didn't turn around. "Katie, where are you going?"

She flipped him off and looked both ways before crossing the street. Clint dashed out after her, heart in his throat. He wasn't worried about the shop. For all his laziness, Lucky was a great guard dog.

"Kate," he hissed out when he caught up with her. "What are you doing?"

"What you won't," she snapped. The redhead chose that moment to fling the door of her shop open with a foot, a tower of cardboard balanced in her arms. Surprise flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later. "Hi!" Kate chirped. Clint suppressed another scowl. Never in their friendship had she sounded so cheerful. "We just wanted to say hi, welcome to the neighbourhood. I'm Kate, and this is Clint. He owns _Cupid’s Flowers_.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

The redhead’s eyes met Clint’s over the folded up boxes and he tried to chase the frown off his face. From the way her eyes hardened, he must have not been very successful. She turned her attention back to Kate and smiled tightly at her.

"Natasha. I’d shake your hand, but…”

"Can we help with anything?" Clint drew in a deep breath. He couldn't understand why Kate was so insistent on making friends with the woman.

“Thanks,” Natasha said flatly. “I’ve got it covered.” She moved to step past them, but Kate opened her mouth to speak again.

"When are you opening?"

"Next week, hopefully." A flash of something indistinguishable crossed her face and her shoulders tensed. "I appreciate the interest, but I'm a bit busy. So if you don't mind, maybe we can leave the socialising for some other time." Clint scoffed and Natasha's eyes found his again, and he could see she felt the same way he did about her. Hostile.

"How did you pick this spot," he asked, but it was more snappy than he'd intended. Kate elbowed him.

"What does it matter?" She dropped the cardboard at her feet in resignation.

"Well, I mean, it's not like there's another flower shop in two blocks, but sure, moving in across the only one sounds like the most logical business decision." Kate jammed her elbow in his ribs again, harder this time. "I was just wondering why here."

Natasha crossed her arms and hardened her glare. "I liked the location and the price was decent. Are you that insecure in your shop?"

"I'm not _insecure_ ," he countered. "I just--"

"Clint, _shut up_ ," Kate hissed. She looked at Natasha apologetically. "I'm sorry, he isn't usually such a jerk. I hope to see you around?"

"Sure," the redhead nodded and picked up her garbage.

When they were back safely behind the closed door of _Cupid_ and away from the sticky August heat, Clint grumbled and went to check on his dog. Kate stopped in the middle of the store with her hands planted on her hips.

"What has gotten _into_ you," she exclaimed. "Are you into her? Is that why you're being such a douchebag? I have no idea why you men think it's attractive."

Clint jerked in her direction."I _don't_ like her," he choked out. “And she was as bad as me.”

“Uh-huh, and did you stop glaring at least for a second?” He tried answering, but then thought better of it. He hadn’t. Kate snorted. “Oh, Daisy’s gonna love this. I’m so coming to dinner on Friday."

"Kate, no," he groaned, but she just cackled. Deep down, though, he was glad. She hadn't visited in a while, and both Phil and Mel had been pestering him to take her with the next time he came over. At least that task he could cross off his list. Now, the only thing he had to worry about was the redhead across the street.

* * *

Eight days later he saw Natasha flip the sign on her door with a smile on her face. The letters on the window read _The Black Rose_ and Clint couldn’t help a scoff. There were no black roses.

He turned and grabbed the actual _basket_ Kate had plopped on the counter half an hour ago with strict instructions. _Don’t eat the muffins, bring Natasha the muffins, be nice._ He wasn’t sure if the first or the last one was going to be harder. He’d tried getting it over with sooner, but he'd been worried it wouldn’t be appropriate to go there before she was officially open. Now, though, now seemed as good of a time as any.

A wave of cold air hit him when he entered, a soft bell alerting her of his presence. She turned, a surprised curve in her eyebrows and curiosity in her eyes. She didn’t greet him. He probably deserved it. Clint hesitated, but one more second of silence would have made things even more awkward.

“Uh, congratulations?” He wondered why exactly he'd put it like a question. “I, uh…” He extended his arms, an uneasy smile tugging at his lips. “I brought you muffins. As an apology. I was rude and you didn’t deserve that. Sorry.”

Natasha stared blankly. Clint looked around, took in the potted herbs on the shelves and the colourful blooms. Even with his experience, he found himself surprised to see plants he wasn’t familiar with, and not just one or two.

“The place looks great,” he admitted. There was no bite in his voice, no jealousy, just pure admiration. Her lips tilted at the compliment.

“Thanks.” She took the basket and peeked inside. “Blueberries?”

“And chocolate. I think.”

“You think?”

“Kate got them.” Her face hardened again.

“So it’s her apologising, then?”

Clint balked, irritation and animosity rekindling back in him. Why was he even trying to fix things if she wouldn't.

“She _bought_ them, I _brought_ them. Consider it a gift from both of us or whatever.” He turned to leave, and she didn’t stop him.

* * *

“You had _one_ job.” Clint shouldn’t have been surprised that Kate had found out so quickly. She always knew things she wasn’t supposed to, and the disaster from that morning was no different. He took a swig from his bottle and leaned against Phil’s kitchen counter. "Were your aids turned on this morning? Did you forget to put them on again?" He scoffed and lifted his fingers to touch the plastic devices. 

“Technically, I followed your orders to a T. I was nice, and then _she_ stopped being nice, so I left. Leave my ears out of it.” His father eyed him from his right, a curious glint in his gaze. Melinda passed him another bowl of vegetables to chop.

“ _Hello_ , Katherine.” Clint has always admired Mel’s skills to put her kids in line, even if Kate wasn't _technically_ her kid. She was soft with them most of the time, except when they forgot their manners and all her lessons. He smirked at Kate.

“Sorry,” she gritted. “Hi, Mel, hi, Phil. Hello, _Clinton_.” And then louder, to the dismay of everyone present, “ _Hi, Daisy!_ ” Their sister's distant yell hollered back.

Kate busied herself with helping prepare dinner while Melinda interrogated him. It had been part of her initial plan, no doubt, if was to be judged by the young woman’s wicked grin that occasionally flashed in his direction.

“–and she’s just insufferable!” he finished with an exasperated raise of his arms. Daisy bounded down the stairs with a grin.

“Who’s insufferable?” She kissed his cheek and went to hug Kate, who smirked at him again.

“He just doesn’t want to admit he’s got a crush on the new florist.” Clint opened his mouth to protest but his little sister beat him to speaking.

“The redhead? But she was so nice!”

He gaped at Daisy. “ _How_ do you know her?”

“My shift on Monday.” she shrugged. “She helped me load the van.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Daisy had started working part-time shifts a year ago when she’d gotten her licence. It was good practice for her, and she loved being involved in the family business, _unlike someone else_. Clint never complained, and her help had always been appreciated. Fortunately for him, he got to spend more time with his sister whenever they were having a slow day. Unfortunately for him, her working at _Cupid_ meant occasional run-ins with his other employee. Unfortunately for him, that other employee was not Kate. Unfortunately for him, it was Lincoln.

Unfortunately for him, he had to listen to both of them moon over each other, repeatedly, oblivious to the heart eyes they gave one another all the time. It was a real headache, and Kate just loved adding to his pain with her not-at-all subtle teasing.

“See,” Kate pointed out. “Problem’s in _you_.”

Clint glowered at her and turned to the adults in the room. (He would never stop referring to them as ‘the adults’, despite the fact that he was nearly thirty himself.)

“Help me out here,” he pleaded, abandoning his bottle on the counter. Phil smiled at him gently, but Melinda snorted.

“From what I’m hearing, they’re not wrong.” She pointed a knife at him, a reprimand on her lips. “How many times have I told you, you shouldn’t react to provocations. You should keep your head level and your thoughts free of hostility.”

“But–“

“Your father didn’t raise you to be a jackass,” she snapped. Clint was taken aback for a second, all of them were, but then he nodded in defeat.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Mel.” She nodded, satisfied with her intervention, and ordered him to set the table.

* * *

“What about that blond guy across the street,” Yelena asked. Natasha suppressed a groan as she took out plates and passed them to the younger woman.

“No.”

“That sounds definitive.”

“It is.”

Yelena had been trying to set her up with someone for months, ever since her leg had finally recovered and she’d decided going back to ballet was not an option, ever again. However, her little sister’s taste in men widely differed from Natasha’s, judging by the long list of rejected suggestions, which Clint Barton was currently heading.

“What’s so wrong with _this_ one,” Yelena frowned.

“I don’t like him.” The blonde blinked, brows furrowing in confusion, prompting Natasha to elaborate. “Both times we’ve spoken, we ended up almost poking each other’s eyes out. Besides, I think he’s dating Kate. She’s the cooler one, anyway, she bought the muffins.”

Yelena looked at her flatly and sighed dramatically. _You’re impossible_ , she’d said a week ago, but Natasha just had standards.

"I don’t need you to find me a boyfriend,” she said gently when they'd settled at the table with their take-out. “I want to focus on my business right now. If I want this thing to work out, I’m going to need some advertisement. Possibly more than some.”

“Yeah,” Yelena shook her head. “I still don’t get why you had to go with the whole ‘flower language’ thing. People don’t really care as long as they get fresh and pretty bouquets.”

Natasha grinned, that smile that had her sister biting back a pained moan at the prospect of listening about all the hidden messages in a single blossom. Natasha's excitement, though, the way her eyes lit up and she pushed away her food to be free of distractions as she spoke, it was enough for Yelena to bite back any complaint. It had been a long time since her sister had found such joy in something mundane. It had taken a shattered tibia to drain her of all her hopes and dreams.

Natasha was aware Yelena felt bad for her. She was also aware Yelena was terrified of the same happening to her. They'd both been raised in ballet, nothing else mattered aside from their careers. Now, though, Yelena was the only one who had to think about a career. Now, Natasha had found something else to concentrate her energy on. 

While she'd been lying in the hospital, she'd been surrounded by get-well bouquets. Beautiful, but empty of any meaning. They'd been as depressing as the verdict - she would never dance at that level again, she wouldn't keep in touch with all those people who sent her senseless flowers, in which she could read both their pity and guilty relief that it hadn't been them.

In an outburst of spite, she'd looked up every single flower she'd been delivered. Almost all were confessions of love. 

It had come to her slowly, the idea to set up her own flower shop. To put a real message in petals instead of on paper. It had come slowly, like her recovery. She'd had plenty of time to do research, to think things through, to discuss them with Yelena and Melina and Alexei. When the doctors cleared her, she rolled up her metaphorical sleeves and got to work. 

She hadn't even though about it twice when she got a call about a great location. She hadn't been looking to rent, but to buy. Rent was too uncertain, too tricky. She needed to make the shop her own space, and the only way to do so was by owning it.

The only setback was the neighbour. Then again, she thought, how likely was it really that she would _have_ to interact with him?


	2. Dame's Rockets and Hyacinths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the third part of the first chapter because I am an idiot and forgot to mention Clint’s aids from the beginning. Sorry. Anyway, enjoy!

By November, _The Black Rose_ had become a well known name throughout the city. Natasha had set up several social media pages and pulled some strings, and then people were basically waiting in a line just to get into the shop. 

Sentimentality, she supposed, was a great companion of romance. And nothing screamed ‘ _romantic gesture_ ’ as loud as a love letter made of flowers. The best part, though, was that clients didn’t just seek her out for love confessions. Regardless that flowers were the universal language of love, it wasn’t always  _that_ people wanted to convey through a bouquet. Yelena had been wrong. Sending out a subtle message was just as appealing as gifting senseless beauty.

Every once in a while, she’d catch her neighbour looking across the street at her. Sometimes in curiosity, sometimes in annoyance. She tried not to pay too much attention to him. Many of the clients she attracted decided her prices weren’tworth it in the end and looked for alternatives. Most of the time, _he_ was the alternative.

Maybe that was why he always looked at  _her_ with such disdain, but  never at someone else . She wouldn’t admit it, but she’d watched him interact with the people that visited his shop, even if they didn’t buy anything. He’ d  smile at them widely, and his face  would  completely transform, like he was an entirely different person. The dog definitely helped too, even if people were cautious at first. It was a big, blond ball of fur that loved attention, and she couldn’t help bit smirk at the thought that it and Barton were surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly) similar. 

Above all, she was intrigued by his exchanges with kids. Natasha wasn’t too comfortable around them, but he seemed to love having children around, even if they touched everything in sight. She’d only seen it twice. He’d squat down to their height and grin teasingly, and then he’d let them play with his furry companion while he helped their parents.

Begrudgingly, she had to admit that maybe he wasn’t  a _complete_ asshole . Not all the time, anyway – only when it came to her.

Her birthday snuck up on her. She’d never deemed it important enough to break routine just for a regular day that marked another year of existence. Of course, no one else thought like her.

Every year since she could remember, Melina made her cake and Alexei whipped up his special  _pelmeni_ . Yelena always scattered her presents throughout the house, wrapped in pretty small packages, so Natasha could find them one by one.

That morning, she found a tiny black box with a red ribbon on the counter in the shop. Silver magnolias blinked at her when she opened it. Natasha chuckled and switched her simple rhinestones with the new earrings. She made a mental note to speak with Yelena about her ways of sneaking around the shop.

She flipped the sign and got ready to greet the first customers.

* * *

Ever since that unfortunate first encounter, Clint had tried to keep her out of his head. And it had worked out perfectly. The first hour.

He’d catch a glimpse of fiery hair here and there, or he’d look out the window just for his gaze to land on her. He couldn’t stop being distracted by her. It had reached a point where he wasn’t annoyed with her anymore, he was annoyed with  _himself_ .

He was helping Daisy load the van one afternoon, and his eyes found her on their own accord - concentrating hard over an arrangement, something white and pink from what he could see. Her short red curls were framing her face, brows furrowed thoughtfully, and she was surrounded by greenery. A smile tugged at his lips, at the way it was obvious how much she enjoyed working with plants, at the dedication and care she put into her work, but he turned back to the van the moment she started lifting her head.

There was always something that made him look her way, and every time, he averted his gaze the second he caught himself.

Kate’s unrelenting teasing was the worst of it all. She’d smirk and slide in a sly comment and then she’d be gone out the door with a cackle before he could reply. Lucky seemed to be the only one on Clint’s side.

It was a slow day, but the cold seasons  were never as strong as spring or summer. There was just something about the weather, the way clouds and fog rolled low over the city and the sun hid behind the skyscrapers, tinting the sky grey. Not a lot of people bought flowers on a whim when they had to duck for cover in the rain.

Clint looked up from the flowers and leaves scattered across the counter when he heard the bell jingle. Kate stood in the middle of the shop with a sour face, wrapped tightly in a dark coat and a bright purple scarf.

“I _hate_ November,” she growled. He looked her over and lifted the corner of his lips.

“November hates you too,” he nodded pointedly at his best friend. She was a child of the sun and thrived in warmth. Every winter since they’d met, he’d listened to her complain tirelessly about the rain, or the cold, or the snow. And because she was Kate, Phil always made her a cup of his hot chocolate without objection after family dinner.

No matter how much Clint complained about his ‘spoiled little sisters’, he didn’t actually mind. He knew they both deserved it, a compensation for both of their terrible childhoods, even if it wouldn’t ever really be enough. 

Daisy had stumbled through foster home after foster home, carrying a name she despised. She hadn’t found stability until Mel and Phil had taken her in when she was eight, a bit after Clint started college. They gave her more than just a house to live in – they gave her a family she could rely on, they gave her love, safety, they let her chose her own name. She’d been Skye for four years until she’d decided to get in trouble and look into her own past. In the end, though, it turned out that ‘ _Daisy_ ’ was even more fitting.

And Kate… Kate had had just as shitty a childhood, even if it was a bit different. She’d grown up in a rich family, but they were only rich in money. When she’d first opened up to Clint, she’d told him about all the holidays she and her mother and sister had  spent without her father, all the times her mother hadn’t been the responsible adult and her father hadn’t been the solid fixture a child needed in their life. And it had all just gone even more downhill after her mother’s death. So Kate had found a new family, even if she wasn’t a legal member of it. 

Clint didn’t mind his sister and his best friend getting a bit more love than him every now and then. After all, he’d gotten his share early on. Now, it was his turn to join in on the loving gestures and the annoying fussing.

Kate dropped her bag behind the wooden desk next to Lucky and looked over Clint’s shoulder to see what he was working on.

“How are things going with your crush,” she started, and the man took in a deep breath to steady his nerves.

“I’ll kick you back out to deal with November on your own,” he threatened, and she raised her hands in surrender.

“Gee, you’re touchy today. Did you at least try talking to her?” 

“No,” he sighed. He’d thought about it, about making another attempt at breaking the ice, but he had more odds in making things worse than better, so he’d refrained from making a bigger fool out of himself.

“I have it on good authority,” she whispered conspiratorially, “that you have a good chance of getting her in your favours if you send her flowers today.”

His head snapped in Kate’s direction, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes.

“The hell does that mean?” Kate released a heavy sigh and looked at him flatly as if he was a dog not subject to training.

“It’s her birthday, dumbass.”

“And how do _you_ know that?”

“You mean aside from being nice to her?” Clint opened his mouth to protest, but Kate quickly moved on with a wave of her hand. “Long story short, I bumped into her sister last night when I came back here to get my bow. I thought she was trying to rob Natasha or something, so I went to confront her– oh, don’t give me that look, you would have done the same! Anyway, she was just planting a surprise present there and then we kinda got talking. Point here is, go be a good boy and say happy birthday to her.”

He raised his brows and crossed his arms. Clint had taken to teaching Kate to shoot not long after they’ d met, and it definitely helped that she’d had some background training at summer camp. She’d become as good as him in no time and they often spent quality time at target practice together. That also meant that she felt free to just scatter her  gear everywhere and only collect  it when she felt like it. After waking him at three in the morning a couple years ago to straight up demand he unlock  _Cupid_ so she could get her arrows, Clint had decided enough was enough and she’d received her own keys.

When she’d reached a level of mastery she was content with, Kate’s confidence had sky-rocketed. She’d gotten cocky, thinking that with her sharpshooting skills and Mel’s self-defence lessons, later advanced martial arts, she didn’t need to fear a thing. Which was exactly how she often ended up in street fights, and Clint always had to be the one to bandage her up. He hated that reckless side of her, hated her lack of self-preservation instincts that always lead to her being hurt.

He’d tried talking sense into her, multiple times, but Kate had always been a stubborn one, since the moment he’d met her, and he was aware how unlikely it was for her to suddenly start listening to him.

“Did you?” he asked.

“Did I what?”

“Say happy birthday to her, Katie.” She blinked, jerking back in surprise. He’d gotten her there, he knew. She glared at him.

“It’s not _me_ she hates.”

“ _Kate_.”

“I’ll do it on my way out, lay off. It’s yourself you should worry about. Flowers, don’t forget.”

Clint barked out a laugh. He wondered if she saw the irony, how silly that idea sounded.

“You want me to send flowers… to the _florist_? Who writes poems with flowers?” Kate pursed her lips, a frustrated look spread across her face, and she grunted in acknowledgement.

“I do see your point there,” she nodded. A smirk tugged at her lips. “Poems with flowers? _Dude_.”

He swatted at her and went back to his work. Yes, okay, it was a bit cheesy of him, but it was practically the truth. He’d seen an ad of her shop a few weeks ago and he had to admit, it was original. There were photos of her work, of happy clients with their flowers, even of the pearlescent card she left with the name of the shop and every flower in the bouquet, their meanings neatly listed in swirly handwriting. As much as he grumbled about her, Natasha was _good_. The least he could do was respect her talent.

Kate stuck around for an hour and only paused her rants when someone else entered the store. When she left, he saw her make her way to _The Black Rose._ His head thunked against the wood of the counter. She was right – even if he’d be damned before he let Kate hear him say it – it was a perfect opportunity to bury the hatchet. Generally, he didn’t care that much what people thought of him, if they liked him or not, but Natasha seemed an interesting and otherwise friendly person.

There really couldn’t be much harm in sending her flowers for her birthday. At the least, he could play it off as an inside joke if the whole thing blew in his face. But in order for her not to think he’s the douchebag she’d most likely initially estimated him to be, he needed to do research.

Clint pulled his phone out with newfound determination and grabbed a spare sheet of paper. How hard could it be to send a floral message?

(Pretty hard, it turned out. In the end, there was only one option that seemed fitting, and it wasn’t even that friendly of a message. He hoped she’d see the humour of it.)

* * *

She’d seen the man who brought her the flowers loading _Cupid_ ’s van several times.

Natasha was… surprised, to say the least. Not entirely suspicious, but wary nonetheless. She stood before the small basket with her arms crossed, still debating what to do with it. Small purple and white flowers; four-petaled blooms, cluttered like a hyacinth. They smelled like summer nights and bittersweet memories. She recognised them immediately. Dame’s Rockets weren’t typical for this time of year, and she’d usually seen them decorate bigger arrangements – never by themselves.

She picked up the card, a lavender piece of paper folded between the flowers.

‘ _Happy Birthday – C.B._ ’, it read. She frowned. How the hell did he know? Natasha looked out the window across the street. She decided she could afford closing an hour earlier that day. She shrugged on her coat, grabbed the small basket, and locked the door after her. 

He looked up just as she stopped in front of  _Cupid_ in hesitation. He fumbled with something in his hand and raised his fingers to his ear, flushed with colour. It would be weird to just walk away now, she reasoned, and pressed the handle.

“Hi,” she greeted. The man flinched and put a hand back on his ear.

“Sorry,” he winced. “I thought the batteries were low but I guess that _really_ wasn’t the problem.”

He gave her an awkward grin and took off a small device.

_Oh_ .

She tried to wave it off and smiled at him.

“I got your flowers,” she said and raised the basket as if to prove it. “Was it intentional?”

His face lit up in excitement and pride.

“I knew it would have looked stupid if I sent you normal flowers so I did some research. Did I… get it right?”

Natasha snorted. She hadn’t expected him to put in so much effort – hadn’t expected him to put in any effort _at all_. She had to admit, though, it was nice. It was… really nice.

“Dame’s Rocket has several meanings,” she told him, “but I assume what you were going for here is ‘rivalry’. And it’s considered an invasive species in a lot of places.”

“I was also going for the peace offering,” he shrugged, ignoring her last comment. She could see the tense lines of his shoulders, the way he practically held his breath – was he nervous? Their mutual distant hostility so far wasn’t really worth it. He seemed to really be trying. She could return the favour. 

Natasha smirked and got ahold of the door again. “See you around, Barton,” she called over her shoulder and heard  him laugh with an echoing “Bye, Nat.”

Later, when she and Yelena settled on their parents’ couch with a glass of wine in hand, the redhead recalled the interaction to her sister. The younger woman couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she listened.

“I though you said you don’t like him,” she teased. Natasha scoffed.

“He sent me a weed for my birthday.”

“Are you really going to pretend that’s not exactly your cup of tea,” Yelena snorted. “I know you, _Tashenka_. You think it’s cute.”

“Still doesn’t mean I like him,” she retorted.

“Girls, I got the vodka,” Alexei hollered from the kitchen. Natasha knew the conversation was far from over. Yelena wasn’t going to just drop the subject. At least, dinner had saved her for now.

* * *

A week later, she caught Kate headed for Clint’s shop and asked her to give him something for her.

The red hyacinth had been a bitch to find in late autumn and it had not been cheap, but two could play the game he’d started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to literally all of my sources, hyacinths, no matter the colour, but especially red and pink ones, symbolise games and playfulness.


	3. Yellow Roses and Freesias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Lily for helping me find motivation and overall being a great friend <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I know absolutely n o t h i n g about adoption. I sincerely apologise if what I've written is inconsistent with the truth. I hope you enjoy!

Thanksgiving bled into Christmas in a blink. People roamed the streets in search of the perfect presents despite the cold, warmed by paper coffee cups and thick wool, and the promise of joy the Holidays carried.

Natasha didn’t mind the cold so much. Her plants, however, did, so she had to stuff them all inside of the shop until it resembled a tropical jungle, and then turn up the heater too. Across the street, she could see Barton was stuck in a similar situation.

The biggest change December brought wasn’t the fluffy snow or the even lower temperatures. It wasn’t the fairy lights that seemed to have wrapped around the entire city, or the festive decorations. No, the biggest change was this newfound… They weren’t friends per se. Far from it. But they _were_ friendly.

He’d wave at her through her window and she’d smile at him with a nod of her head from across the street. They no longer glared at each other.

It wasn’t like they went out for coffee or met up frequently to chat – no, Natasha didn’t think that was the kind of their acquaintanceship. Theirs was the kind that existed only on the surface, mostly awkward and slightly uncomfortable. They didn’t speak to each other more than strictly necessary, a ‘hi’ and ‘hello’ in passing, sometimes ‘have a nice day’ or ‘good morning’.

Then again, Natasha had never been the most social person, not when she’d been a child and not when she’d been surrounded by dozens of professional dancers, they were the competition and nothing more, and she was aware of how little they’d liked her back when she’d been with the company. She’d only had Yelena, and hadn’t ever needed anyone else. They were all fake anyway. Luckily for them, she could no longer return on stage, and luckily for her, she no longer had to hear their wistful whispers behind her back. She’d never give up ballet voluntarily, but she understood how dangerous pushing her body could be right then.

Natasha sighed and checked the (mostly obscured by leaves) clock on the wall. On the day before Christmas Eve, all people seemed to want to do was definitely not buy flowers. They all rushed about, most of them headed home to their families, some hurrying along for work and some just taking a stroll with a friend. The shop wouldn’t suffer if she closed earlier. And she could get her errand over with sooner, and then get home half an hour earlier and have a cup of tea in the peace of her apartment before Yelena got home from the studio and stuffed her in the car to drive them to their parents’ place.

She’d be open again the day after Christmas, and that meant she couldn’t leave the roses or the rest of the nondurable flowers there, otherwise they’d just go to waste. She couldn’t throw them away either, so she’d come up with a compromise.

Natasha gathered the dozen small bouquets in a crate and wrapped herself in her layers, turned off the lights and locked the door. She picked up her flowers and crossed the street to make her way to her car. She barely avoided _Cupid’s_ door hitting her in the face. Her heart leapt up, lodging itself in her throat as she glared at the man juggling a bunch of arrangements in his arms, scarf gripped by his teeth, hanging off his shoulder and head pressed to his shoulder in a desperate attempt to keep his right hearing aid from falling off.

Her expression shifted in a matter of seconds, eyebrows reaching for her hairline. She offered him her crate and he shot her a grateful look as he gingerly stacked his flowers on top of hers and righted himself.

“Hi,” he grinned, breath escaping in a white cloud as he wove the scarf around his neck and tucked it underneath his jacket. “Thanks for the hand, it all went from inconvenient to disastrous real fast.”

She hummed in agreement. Barton stared for a moment and then seemed to remember what he’d had his hands full with up until a minute ago. He took back all of his plants and inspected hers in curiosity.

“Making a delivery?” Natasha shook her head.

“I don’t make deliveries. I thought I could find better use for these instead of just letting them die.”

He ‘huh’ed and she had to suppress the urge to scowl at him.

“I had the same thought,” he smiled again. “Where are you taking them?”

“The closest hospital.” The look he gave her, so full of understanding, so knowing and open, reached deep inside of her, grasping for the truth as if he could see right through her, see her secrets and her past. The redhead swallowed. Like she’d let him. “What about you?”

“There’s a children’s home a few blocks down. I remember what it was like, how depressing it could get during the holidays. Maybe these could help put smiles on their faces.” Natasha blinked.

“I’m sure they’ll love them,” she offered. The cold air was seeping through her jeans, numbing her fingers. She wasn’t sure how to make her exit without shattering that tentative peace agreement they had like an icicle.

“Hey, uh, sorry to ask this of you,” he winced, “but do you mind giving me a ride? Kate was supposed to pick me up but she probably got caught up with her friends.”

Spend time with him in an enclosed space? _More_ awkward silence and halfhearted conversations? She was tempted to refuse. It was at the tip of her tongue, the universal excuse of ‘I’m in a rush’. But she couldn’t feel her fingers and her nose and he didn’t even have her Russian cold-resistant genes. And it was Christmas. She couldn’t leave him to freeze on Christmas. What the hell.

“Sure.”

* * *

The ride was just as awkward as she’d expected it to be. He’d suggested they drop off her bunch first, considering it was on the way. She’d only agreed because it was the logical thing to do. And when he offered to help her with the crate, she only agreed because she knew he felt like he owed her one.

Natasha snorted at the blushing receptionist across from them as Barton turned on his ‘charm’. ‘Charm’, meaning he smirked at her and thought his attempt at flirting was successful. Apparently, the receptionist seemed to agree with him.

The Russian rolled her eyes and pushed the crate with short instructions, then gripped the back of Barton’s jacket and pulled him towards the exit.

“I didn’t know you’re such a Romeo,” she noted as she started the car. He pointed his smile her way.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Nat.”

“Sure,” she waved him off. “And Kate’s okay with that?”

He scrunched his face. “What does Kate have to do with anything?” Natasha hesitated but then decided she wouldn’t know until she asked.

“You two aren’t together?” She risked a glance in his direction. He was staring at her, mouth hanging, eyes disbelieving and somewhat disgusted.

“ _No_ ,” Barton nearly shouted.”She’s basically my sister, like Daisy.”

The redhead swallowed her surprise and shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.” He shuddered dramatically.

“I’m gonna do you a favour and not tell her,” he grunted, and Natasha smirked.

“Are you doing _me_ a favour or _yourself_?”

“Both?” She chuckled. “You got any big plans for Christmas?”

She hesitated. It wasn’t like it was any of his business. He was probably just trying to make small talk. She mapped out the streets in her head: not much longer left.

“Just a family dinner,” she conceded. “Nothing grand.”

“That must be nice,” he admitted wistfully. “The house always gets so overcrowded and loud at Christmas, and there’s no way to get away from the chaos.

“Big family?”

“A found one.”

A smile tugged at Natasha’s lips. She understood that. She understood the connection he had with Daisy and Kate, understood the warmth in his voice when he talked about his family and understood how little blood mattered. Family was what you made it, who you made it of, not who you got born to.

She was tempted to stay in the car while he delivered his flowers but something inside her ribcage nudged her to help him. Small Christmas Stars and freesias made up some bouquets, colourful roses and daisies others. She stood behind him as he rang the door, conscious of every fibre of her body.

She’d been lucky to never have experienced what he had, what so many children currently were. She’d been lucky to have Melina after her parents passed away, and then she’d been lucky to have Yelena and Alexei. For all the trouble she’d given her mother, she would never forget that Melina had saved her. She’d sacrificed so much just so Natasha could have a roof over her head and a warm meal. The redhead knew she could never repay her. But she also knew Melina didn’t want her to. Being a family was enough for her.

Barton was all smiles when they got rushed in. He’d dialled back the smoulder until all that was left was an honest, warmhearted grin. Kids dashed around every now and then and Natasha did her best not to tense every time she saw one. As small as the place was, it felt overcrowded, stifling. She hated feeling trapped like that. She made a mental note to bring a batch of _pirozhki_ for her parents for Christmas lunch as a ‘thank you’, in a way that would never be sufficient.

She slammed the car door just a bit harder than necessary.

“How far can I stretch out your kindness,” Barton asked when he joined her. She checked the time; it was too late for tea by then, and there was still half an hour left until her sister got home.

“Where to?”

He grinned, eyes twinkling. Natasha started the car and side-eyed him.

“Thanks, Nat. I owe you one.” She hummed, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. His eyes darted to her face, her shoulders, her hands. He faltered for just a second. “Are you okay?”

She blinked and hummed again. Something was obviously bothering her, he just wasn’t sure how much he could test her before she snapped at him and things returned back to square one. It didn’t sit right, though. It also didn’t seem like the best idea to piss off the driver on the move, so he waited for her to stop at a red light before he turned his upper half her way.

“You’re not okay. Come on, talk to me.” Natasha glared at him.

“No offence,” she snapped, “but if there was something wrong, _which there isn’t_ , you wouldn’t be my first choice to share secrets.” He raised his hands in surrender as she stepped on the gas. She didn’t want to talk, fine. That didn’t mean he’d leave it alone. Kate must have been rubbing off on him, his self-preservation instincts were running for the hills.

“I get that,” he shrugged. “I’d be reluctant to talk about my past too, except it’s not the past that matters. Man, I had such a shitty childhood, and then Phil came along. Took me in, gave me a home, gave me a parent, a job, understood me when no one else did.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Her tone was sharp, eyes sharper.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I thought you might be wondering why there.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Clint pursed his lips. He was pushing his luck. And her patience. He could see she wasn’t someone to mess around with, but there was this reckless, curious part of him that wanted to know more, wanted to know why she tensed around the kids and why it put her so much on edge.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he offered.

“You didn’t.” He totally did.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way.”

“Sure.”

The silence that filled the space of the car was deafening, awkward, thick with tension. Clint looked out the window. They were getting close now. His fingers tapped against his thigh, thoughts racing. He’d spent hours staring at her and now he was pushing her farther away. Kate and Daisy were right, he _was_ a disaster when it came to women. Natasha’s voice startled him.

“I’m adopted.”

“Oh.”

“I never had to go to a home, though. Melina, my mom, she took me in immediately after my parents died. Signed all the paperwork, no questions asked, no hesitation.” She took in a deep breath and swallowed. “Seeing all these kids… it reminded me of what it could have been like. I used to wake up in tears thinking I was all alone, that I had no place in this world. And then Mama would rush to me and remind me that we’re together and that’s all that maters. I guess it’s just a sensitive topic, though I feel like it should be more so for you.”

Clint had been holding his breath, eyes glued to the side of her face. He cracked a smile, a careless shrug in his shoulders. “I spent most of my childhood in fear and self-pity. There’s no fixing that, but I’m in control of my own life now. Why wallow in the past when I can be here in the future, with the people who love me and whom I love?”

The edge of her lips tugged up in a small smile as she parked in front of the building he pointed out.

“I guess you’re right,” the redhead admitted. “Happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays,” he grinned and pushed out of the car.

* * *

Kate was lounging on his couch when he walked in, Lucky peacefully slumped at her feet.

“Thanks for picking me up,” he snarked as he untangled his scarf. He could have sworn he heard her curse under her breath without moving, but then she waved her hand.

“It was clearly part of my plan.”

“Do tell me more,” Clint rolled his eyes with a scoff. “I’m gonna go change.”

“Sure. I’ll just yell from here.” She made true to her promise as he went further into the apartment. “Who drove you?”

He could hear the smugness in her voice and wondered how the hell she even knew that. “Not you, that’s for sure.”

“Did you scare her off again?” Kate cackled. Clint poked his head out of the bedroom.

“As a matter of fact, I did not, _Katherine_.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t forget to pick me up next time.”

“ _Fineee_. Mel texted ten minutes ago, we should get going.” Clint sighed but went to retrieve his coat again, grabbing Lucky’s leash too.

“Come on, boy, let’s go see your favourite aunt Daisy.”

“Bitch,” Kate scoffed. “I’m the favourite aunt.”

* * *

“Fine,” Natasha declared as she and Yelena finished up the salad. “Maybe I was wrong. He’s not that bad.”

“Who?” Yelena played dumb. Her sister didn’t buy it for a second, she was aware of the communication the blonde and Kate had been keeping up. The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Barton. He’s not a complete douchebag.”

“That’s nice to hear. Say it again.”

The older sister furrowed her eyebrows. “What? That he’s not a complete douchebag?”

“No, no,” Yelena waved around the knife gripped in her hand, eyes gleaming, and Natasha had to dodge her. “The part where you’re wrong.”

“Oh, shut up.” The younger girl’s laugh reverberated through the walls, infectious. A smile rose on Natasha’s face. Yelena was a pain in the ass, she decided, bus she was _her_ pain in the ass.

And it was Christmas. She could let her get away with it. This time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iiiiii know I'm a bit late, and I'm really sorry, but some unexpected circumstances popped up! Anyway, school is over, the summer is here, it's expected to rain all week, so you know what I'll be doing ;)


	4. Carnations, Rosebuds and Camellias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how much flower delivery costs in New York?????
> 
> (Lily, you'll like this one ;) )

“Daisy, I need more pink roses!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Clint had thought he was prepared for Valentine’s day. He had more than enough experience, and he also had enough help that year. Not to mention the flower shop across the street that did as well as his. He’d thought he was prepared, and then it turned out that he _wasn’t_. The fact that it was a Saturday and he had one more pair of hands on site didn’t help much.

People just kept pouring into the store, mostly men if he was fair. Every once in a while he threw a look across the street; Natasha’s situation wasn’t much different than his.

Lincoln parked the van in the street and jumped out to load the next batch. Clint shook himself off and went back to his notebook. He’d gone through more than thirty clients in the past hour and it wasn’t even noon yet.

He loved Valentine’s day – all the flowers he got to sell, all the love he saw in people’s eyes, all the excitement that came with the holiday. But he also hated it – it was hectic, busy, filled with chaos and there was always at least this one client who thought he could do Clint’s job better than him.

Daisy nearly walked into her co-worker as the boy rushed to help her with the flowers.

“I got it,” he smiled at her, but she only let him take half, and Clint lost his concentration to send them an irritated glare.

They’d been making googly eyes at each other for probably the past half year and neither wanted to make the first step, neither wanted to end Clint’s suffering. It wasn’t ideal. As any big brother, he hated the idea of his little sister dating, especially after the Grant Ward Disaster. But Lincoln… Clint knew Lincoln. He was a good kid, he managed to juggle work and his medical studies, and he was always nice. Most of all, he genuinely cared about Daisy, about the shop. If there was one person Clint had to approve of for his sister, it would be Lincoln. If only they would get their shit together…

The man in front of Clint cleared his throat and brought him back to his work. He apologised with a tight smile and finished writing down the address and the details.

The door flung open and his head shot up in alarm. Natasha stood in the doorway in just a sweater, hair wild and cheeks flushed. Her eyes were determined, blazing, she was a woman on a mission. She stalked up to the counter in quick steps, ignoring the indignant glares, and planted her hands on both sides of Clint’s notebook.

“I need your help,” she declared, and all he could do was blink.

“Uh…” All eyes were trained on them, even Daisy and Lincoln’s who were huddled close to each other as they stared.

“I can’t handle all the orders without delaying them, and delaying them means I have to do deliveries, and I don’t do deliveries.” He nodded along. He could imagine, considering the line at her door.

“Okay?”

“Can I use your van?” It took him a second. He opened his mouth to respond but promptly closed it. His brain was trying to think of something coherent to say. She huffed impatiently and threw a look back out the window. “I don’t have all day, Barton, yes or no?”

_Uh..._

“You owe me.” Relief spilled across her face and she smiled at him – not a smirk or that mysterious tilt to her lips, no – a full-on smile.

“Sure, whatever you say.” She turned to walk away, but he stopped her with a question, spoke before he thought.

“How about coffee tomorrow?” Natasha froze, and his eyes flickered to Daisy’s wide, shocked ones – she could read him like a book, he knew – before returning to the turning body of the redhead.

“What?”

He swallowed, but the damage was already done. If he played it off as just a friendly offer, it would most certainly sound awkward, fumbled, panicked. It would be a lie. He didn’t want it to be a friendly offer. And it would be weird, because coffee between them was no longer something unusual.

In the weeks since Christmas, they’d started talking more, a lunch break spent in his shop with his dog at her feet or a trip to the pet store to help her set up a corner for the cat that had been coming and going, which she definitely refused to claim as hers, yet still named. He’d drop off a styrofoam cup by her counter or she’d bring him a pastry from the cafe on her way to work.

He wasn’t blind. He was just an idiot. And because of that, he’d caught himself laughing louder at her jokes and staring longer and finding reasons to touch her. He was crushing on her. And he wanted to know, he _needed_ to know if he stood a chance, if the feelings were _maybe, possibly_ returned.

“Coffee? Tomorrow?”

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. “But I thought–“

Clint swallowed, tried to suppress the beat of his heart in his ears. “Like a date?”

She blinked, then turned back around and headed for the door. “I’ll get back to you on that, okay.” She spun in a circle, pointing a thumb at the street. “I gotta go.”

“Uh, sure… I’ll send Lincoln over in five, five dollars per address?”

“Great, thanks.”

The bell chimed after her and he turned back to the man in front of him distractedly. Daisy leaned next to the guy at the front, roses still clutched in her arms, and stared at him with her mouth hanging open.

“What. Was. That?” she breathed, eyes round like saucers. Her brother shot her an annoyed look, and after a quick sweep of the room tilted his head.

“I thought I shouldn’t get a page out of _your_ book and actually do something about the things I feel,” he snarked.

“Excuse me?” Daisy hissed.

“Oh come on, Dais, don’t play stupid with me. If you like him, just ask him out. _Believe me_ , he won’t say no.” Her jaw locked, her eyes lost their warmth. She lifted her head to glare at him down her nose, then spun, her hair whipping him in the face. She shoved the roses in an empty vase harsher than she necessary needed to, and walked out. Clint made a mental note to talk to Kate about it.

He understood Daisy’s need for privacy, understood her reluctance to be vulnerable around a boy only a year after her first serious relationship had ended. But he also knew, as disastrous as _his_ love life was, that she wouldn’t achieve anything if she didn’t let anyone close to her again.

* * *

“Hey, can you tell Daisy to come help me out back when she comes back from her break?” Clint looked at Lincoln quizzically. It was nearing closing time and even with Natasha’s orders, they’d finished all their deliveries for the day.

“I can help, what is it?” The younger man seemingly winced.

“No, no, it’s okay. Just... tell Daisy, okay?” Clint nodded despite his confusion. What could Daisy do that he couldn’t?

He was about to ask when a familiar red head popped in his line of sight. He grinned at Natasha and tried not to get too excited at the way she smiled back.

“Hey,” he breathed out and immediately scolded himself. _Pull yourself together, Barton_. The voice in his head sounded disconcertingly a lot like Kate’s.

“Hi.” She stopped at the counter and placed her hands on top of the wooden surface, finding a piece of bow to smooth her fingers over. “I wanted to thank you again. I knew Valentine’s day would be overwhelming but I didn’t expect to actually… you know.”

“Yeah, I remember my first time too. I was running all over the place and my dad had to deal with both the clients and the messes I kept making,” he laughed.

“Family business, then?” She was looking at him with genuine curiosity, an open face so unlike the cold facade she’d worn the first time they met. Clint nodded.

“You could say that.” His sister entered behind Natasha and he perked up. “Hey, Lincoln asked for you to go help him in the back.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. She was tired, Clint could tell. They all were. Valentine’s day must have been the longest day of the year and no scientist could prove otherwise.

“Why, are you incompetent or just preoccupied?” she snapped as she passed him on her way.

“Ask him,” the man shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. He returned his attention to Natasha, who was pulling out an envelope out of her pocket.

“Here,” she said as she set it down in front of him. “You can see my book too, but I’m pretty sure I calculated everything right.” He shook his head.

“That’s okay. I trust you.” Her face fell and her eyes flickered down for a heartbeat. A crease formed in her brow. “Are you okay?”

Clint saw her swallow and take a deep breath, then she nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine. Look…” _Oh no._ “Clint…” _No. Shit._ “I thought it through, and…” _Shit, shit, shit._ “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” He tried to swallow past the dryness in his throat. He knew perfectly well what she was trying to say, yet some part of him must have been a secret masochist, because he still asked her to clarify. “I don’t think… we should go on a date.”

He couldn’t even muster a sound. The look on her face only made things worse, all pained and uncomfortable. He’d made her feel that way. What was wrong with him? She was halfway out the door by the time he managed to get his vocal cords to work again.

“Nat, wait,” he tried, but she was already gone.

He could run after her, catch up, tell her it was alright. He could, but the thing was, maybe he shouldn’t. For her sake and for his. He knew her well enough by that point, knew she liked dealing with emotions on her own, knew how gently he should thread around her, yet he’d still gone and fucked that up. He’d ruined all of the progress he’d made with her, with their friendship, and she might not even want to talk to him again, just because he’d wanted to know if she felt what he felt.

Well, at least he had an answer now.

Clint leaned his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands with a deep groan. How could he be such an idiot? And all that crap he’d told Daisy, maybe she was right to be pissed at him for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Maybe she knew him better than he knew himself, maybe she’d known he’d crash and burn since the beginning.

He straightened himself, head filled with self-deprecation and disappointment. What the hell was taking Lincoln and Daisy so long anyway?

He froze when he opened the inventory room’s door.

“ _What the fuck?_ ”

* * *

“He asked me out,” Natasha said in the form of greeting the second Yelena opened the front door. Her sister beamed at her.

“ _Nat_ , that’s grea–“

“I turned him down.”

Yelena blinked, once, twice, tried to re-compose herself and glared at her sister with the passion of their mother. Natasha bit her lip. She knew what was coming, and she probably deserved it. She would hold her ground anyway.

“What is wrong with you?” The blonde hissed. “Why are you sabotaging yourself? Do you hate the thought of being happy that much?”

The redhead just stared at her. She’d expected her sister to have an opinion on the matter. She hadn’t expected her to lash out like that. Natasha returned the glare.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” she snapped.

“Then explain it to me,” Yelena retorted, crossing her arms, coat still on. The older girl shook her head.

“It’s complicated, Lena.”

“ _No_. It really isn’t. You’ve always taken what you want. You became the best dancer in New York in less than five years. You started your own successful business. You can do anything you set your mind to, but you just refuse to let yourself be _truly_ happy.”

“And you think a man is going to make me ‘ _truly happy_ ’?

“Of course not,” the younger sister laughed bitterly. “But I’ve seen the way your face changes when you talk about him, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way you look at him when you think no one else is watching. You’re great as friends. You’d be greater as something more.”

“See,” Natasha hissed, throat clogged, “that’s exactly the problem. We’re great as friends. I don’t have many of those. I don’t have any at all. I can’t ruin it because of a ‘what if’.”

Yelena smiled, face melting into something softer, but sadness lingered in her eyes.

“No, Natasha,” she said softly. “The problem is that you’re living with the ‘what if’ now, and you’ll keep living with it until it consumes you. Do you really want to wonder what could have been had you been less of a coward?”

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re such an idiot,” Kate exclaimed. She’d beed glaring at him ever since he’d told her he’d messed things up with Natasha. And then she’d proceeded to repeat that same exact sentence at least a dozen times in between shots.

“I didn’t think she’d get upset!” he tried to defend himself. His best friend scoffed.

“Oh, but you thought at _all_?”

“ _Katie_! Stop it, okay? I’m beating myself over it as it is. I don’t need you on my case too, okay? Can you just… I don’t know… be supportive or something?” She scoffed again and punched him in the shoulder.

“How can you always hit the bullseye, but when it comes to love, you miss every time?” Her arrow split the air and embedded itself in the canvas. “What kind of Hawkeye are you? You bring shame to the name.”

“Oh, shut up,” Clint grumbled, but he appreciated her attempt at distraction nonetheless. “And, you know, that’s not even the worst thing that happened yesterday.”

“Something can beat you getting rejected by the woman you’ve been pining after for the past half year?” She whistled mockingly, a smirk playing at her lips.

“What? I haven’t– _Kate_!” She snickered at him and nocked another arrow. “No, trust me, this is worse. It’s Daisy.” A muscle in his arm ticked just as he was releasing his own arrow and it hit the outer line of the bullseye. “I caught her making out with Lincoln in the inventory room.”

Kate’s arrow sharply changed its trajectory and flew out to the trees behind their targets.

“ _No_. _Way_.” She gaped at him, bow hanging limply from her hand. Clint cringed.

“Yes way. It was disgusting. I used to like Lincoln. I thought I’d feel relieved when they finally got together. Now I have to restrain myself from glaring at him every five minutes.” Kate burst out in laughter.

“I can’t believe I missed that.”

“I wish I’d missed that.” She laughed again, loudly and deeply, and Clint just had to accept that everyone was against him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself sad. I think that's a good sign.


	5. Daffodils, Chrysanthemums and Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know it's been a long time and I apologise, but I've been experiencing frequent terrible cases of The Slump.
> 
> Special thanks to Lily for helping me get over them and finally sit on my ass to write it.
> 
> P.S. I made myself hungry with this one.   
> P.P.S. Here's some [trivia](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com/post/623075652414881792/i-heard-its-trivia-tuesday-ao3commentoftheday) for anyone interested

It took him two weeks to get her to stop avoiding him. It took her a whole month to open up to him again. And even three weeks after things had started getting back to normal, she still felt colder than she’d been before, more cautious and reluctant in a way. He hated it.

Their conversations had been reduced to mundane, work-related topics. She avoided looking him in the eye for longer than a couple of seconds every few minutes. _He hated it._

Spring was in full bloom. Perfume-like scents wafted down their street. The sun was bright, warm even in the late days of April. It was a perfect day, Clint decided, to get his friend back.

“And you think your plan will work, because…?” He glared at Kate. She wasn’t really doing great in the support department at the moment. Hadn’t been for a while now. Clint wondered what was up with her, but knew better than to push her when she obviously didn’t want to talk about it. If she did, she would have done so already.

“It’s not that he _knows_ it’s gonna work,” Daisy piped in from the back room. “He just really hopes it won’t blow up in his face like last time.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Dais.” She hadn’t stopped rubbing it in his face that she and Lincoln had gotten together  _without_ his shitty guidance ever since he’d caught them making out right where she was currently standing.

“You’re welcome, Clint,” she called out, head sticking out to smile at him saccharinely. “But if you want some advice–“

He glared at his sister and she cut herself off to laugh at him. As if he hadn’t already heard it more than enough times.

Not only did he have to deal with a smug teenage girl, he also had to stop himself from kicking both her and Lincoln out of the shop whenever they were together in the same space.

“Don’t make me ask Mel to give you the Talk,” he threatened, effectively wiping her smirk off her face. Kate snorted from beside him, and Clint tried not to frown at her. Usually, she would have straight up cackled. “Katie, are you–“

The door jingled and Lucky’s head shot up from his bed. Lincoln walked in with a tray of coffee cups in hand. The scent distracted the older man enough for the other archer to make an excuse and rush out with her coffee in hand. Daisy’s boyfriend blinked at her retreating figure and turned to Clint, question at his lips, but he just shrugged.

Kate wouldn’t talk to him, but coffee would, and it spoke a language of  _love_ .

* * *

He strode into The Black Rose at one p.m. sharp, Lucky next to him on a leash. Natasha looked up at him in confusion, wrangling lavender paper between her fingers.

“Can I help you?” Irritation blazed through Clint’s chest. How long would she keep up that icy persona?

“Yes, actually.” He leaned over her counter, laying his arms on the surface, inching as close to her as he dared. “Daisy is going to come in here in five minutes and take care of your store for the next hour and a half. _And_ , you get free delivery for when you get back to complete your orders because we don’t want Daisy to mess anything up.”

Indignation flashed across the redhead’s face. “And you think I’ll allow this, why exactly?”

“Because,” Clint smirked confidently, despite not feeling all that confident at all, “you and I are getting pizza.” Her raised eyebrow prompted further explanation and he waited for no other hint. “Look, Nat, it’s clear as day you’re still uncomfortable around me after that stupid thing I said in February, and it’s fine, I get it. But… I miss my friend.”

She didn’t want to admit it but he was right. She’d been purposely distancing herself, not only from him, but from everyone else too, even her sister. Yelena had long ago called her out on her bullshit, but that didn’t mean Natasha had miraculously cut it out. It was what she did.

It had been stupid of her to think she could have friends. Everyone always wanted something from her. Always had an ulterior motive to get close to her. And when he’d asked her out, it had become clear to her that… that what? That he just wanted to sleep with her? But that couldn’t be it. He kept coming back after she shot him down and never brought that up again. And now… now it seemed like he wouldn’t just drop her out of his life like she’d been pushing him to do. Like he genuinely cared about their friendship.

Like he genuinely cared about her.

He’d caught her off guard.

She wouldn’t tell him, but she missed him too. Not his physical presence – no, he was always around, somehow. She missed talking about things that mattered, she missed  _talking_ for more than five minutes in general.

Natasha sighed, as if grabbing lunch was the greatest inconvenience in the world and turned to grab her jacket. “Fine,” she conceded and struggled not to smile back at the bright grin he beamed at her with.

The pizza place was two blocks away and they didn’t mind the dog as long as they sat outside. She listened to Clint talk about nothing particular while she studied the menu, and as soon as their orders were taken, his face turned more serious, eyes softening. Natasha braced herself.

“Why did I freak you out so much?” She lowered her eyes, only to find Lucky looking at her with his tongue lolled to the side. Well, that wasn’t much better. She wondered if he’d drop it if she didn’t answer, but that wasn’t why he’d suggested this lunch. It wasn’t why she’d accepted either. If she wanted to make things right, she had to tell him at least _something_.

“I have a bad track record when it comes to dating.”

“Me too,” he grimaced. “Kate and Daisy keep reminding me. But it can’t be so bad you’d want to cut all contact with me, come on.” Natasha hesitated.

“It’s complicated.”

“We have an hour and a half and the food still isn’t here.” She sighed, slightly irritated at his persistence.

“It _is_ that bad, okay? I always end up screwing up any relationship, romantic or not. Yelena is the only one who still tolerates me and she doesn’t really have a choice. She’s sick of me already anyway.”

Clint snorted. “Well that’s a sibling’s job. Tolerate you and stay by your side even when they can’t stand you anymore. Most of them, anyway.” Something in his voice, perhaps the melancholy or the bitterness, told her he was speaking from experience. She tucked away this piece of information and folded her arms on top of the table.

“When you…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it but luckily for her, he nodded in understanding. “Every past relationship, past friendship, flashed before my eyes. And every time, someone ended up hurt. I didn’t… I didn’t want to do that to you.”

She raised her head, hair falling away from her face, and met his understanding gaze. He was looking at her with such softness and warmth, her heart leapt up in her chest.

“But why did you try to avoid me? I can take a hint, you know.” She nodded and fiddled with her sleeves.

“I thought you’d try again. And I’ve always preferred to be safe than sorry. So I just… hoped you’d get the bigger hint.” She smiled from beneath her lashes when he snorted. She was she hadn’t been able to drive him away. 

Unless…

Unless this was all some kind of revenge.

Clint watched her face lose all its friendliness in an instant. He reached for her hand across the table with furrowed eyebrows and tried not to frown at the way she jumped at his touch.

“Nat, are you okay?” She stared right at him, green concentrated on grey. He couldn’t be playing her. It would be too uncharacteristic for him if he was. She’d known him for months. He wasn’t so cruel that he’d let her believe he _still_ wanted to be her friend just to stab her in the bag at first opportunity. He _wouldn’t_ do it. 

She swallowed down every doubt, every treacherous whisper her mind conjured, and tried to smile again.

“I’m fine, sorry. Just a bad memory.” She bit her cheek as her eyes trailed to their hands. Clint stiffened and retracted his arm.

“Sorry.” For a moment, they just looked at each other in shared understanding, and then he seemed to come to a decision, nodded and continued. “We don’t have to talk about you if you don’t want to. Getting to know each other goes both ways. Tell me what you want to know.”

The offer caught her by surprise. He was just… allowing her to delve into his past. He was willing to share  _anything_ . That was definitely something she’d never come across in a friend. Natasha blinked and thought of all the questions she’d wanted to ask him but always restrained herself.

“How did you get into the flower business?” It wasn’t the one she was most curious about but it was a good starting point, she thought.

“Well, my dad used to run the shop. I’ve been helping him since high school and _Cupid_ ’s what helped me get past my anger at my biological dad and my brother. Phil took me in when no one else wanted me, showed me all the ropes in the flower business, cared for me. We’d made a deal back when I was seventeen or something like that, that I could take over the shop after I’d graduated college.”

“And look at you now,” Natasha mused, chin perched in her palm. Clint chuckled.

“And look at me now. He and Mel, his wife, run a dojo, you might have heard of it, it’s doing pretty well. ‘Shield’?”

The redhead gaped at him. “You call Melinda May  _Mel_ ?”

“You know her?” He was grinning, eyes crinkling. 

“I’ve been going to ‘Shield’ since… um, for a little over half a year now.” 

“Huh, that’s interesting. Daisy never said anything and she spends a lot of time there.”

“Maybe she thought it’s none of your business,” she smirked. The waiter set their pizzas and drinks before them and Clint’s eyes shone at the cheesy goodness in front of him. Lucky was standing alert, licking his nose every few seconds.

Natasha laughed at her friend as he tried to pick up a piece immediately and then promptly dropped it back on the plate to lick his burned fingers. Resigned, he returned to their conversation.

“Anyway, yeah. Can’t really call the woman my dad dated for years before marrying by her last name, and I haven’t really gotten around to calling her ‘mom’ like Daisy, so Mel it is.”

“I’m adopted too,” she admitted. “Both me and Yelena.” She marvelled at the lack of hesitation as she opened up about things she’d never shared with anyone. No one had assumed or asked her. They’d just assumed that because of their names, they must have been related. “My parents passed away in a car crash when I was a baby and my mom’s best friend took me in before she’d even graduated college. She raised me as her own but never hid my past from me. She supported me in every step I made. Still does.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She is,” Natasha nodded and watched his second attempt to pounce on his lunch. “When I was five, she started dating this guy, he was taking care of his niece because her mom had died during childbirth and they didn’t know who the father was. He was the first one who really made an effort with me. After all, a young woman in her twenties burdened with a child who wasn’t her own isn’t what most guys are looking for.

“And the thing is, I loved that little baby. I loved how funny her uncle was and how many flowers he always brought for my mom – because she was my mom despite everything – and how happy she was around him.” Clint listened transfixed as he pulled the slice away from his mouth, cheese pulling in never-ending strings, and Natasha smiled gently at him. “He asked me if he could marry her first. And then I had a real family. I had a mom, and a dad, and a baby sister. Nothing else mattered after that.”

It felt odd. To finally have someone to tell all that. To finally have someone who understood what it was like to build your own family instead of just being born into one.

But it also felt good. Because she  _could_ tell him. She could tell him and he wouldn’t ask stupid questions and he  _knew,_ because he had the exact same thing.

Natasha bit into her pizza and watched Clint dangle his crust down at his dog. Interesting.

“You’re lucky to have grown up with your sister. Daisy came into the family right after Phil and Mel got married, when she was in third grade. It was ridiculous how easily she’d wrapped them around her little finger. And we can’t forget the identity crisis.” he laughed. “She was Skye for the first four years, because she wanted to pick her own name and she hated what they’d been calling her at St. Agnes.”

Natasha chewed slowly as she listened. She really had been _so_ lucky to not have anything to do with the system.

“When she was twelve, she decided to find her biological parents without telling anyone. She was grounded for months after that but at least it got her temper a bit under control. Apparently, her real name was Daisy, and she took it as a sign. You know, with Phil’s flower shop and the whole thing where they didn’t send her back after the first six months she was with them.”

“And you?” she asked. “How did _you_ feel about the new addition to the family?”

“Oh, I was thrilled at first,” he shrugged. “I was nineteen at the time, I had just started college. Phil gave me his apartment in the city as a graduation present and they moved to a better neighbourhood, closer to Mel’s dojo. I wasn’t around that much, especially after I sat down on my ass and started actually studying. But Daisy was always so angry. I think she really hated me back then. It was like she was doing everything in her power to prove that she was right and no one wanted her. Mel started taking her to the dojo to vent her anger in a healthy way.

“It was hard,” he admitted, head tilting to the side as he reached his hand down with another crust in an offering to Lucky. “I feel like if I’d been there more often, it would have been easier for her to adjust.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Natasha offered. “You had your own responsibilities. And anyway, look what a great kid she turned out to be.” Clint grinned at her, beaming with pride.

“She really is. She’s really into programming, and she has great plans for the future.”

“I can imagine.” She set her crust to the side and started munching on another piece. “So when did Kate come into all of it?”

“A little bit before the identity crisis,” he answered with a smirk. Natasha snorted.

“Well, didn’t you have your hands full, huh?” she teased, mirroring his expression. 

“You have no idea,” he said in all seriousness. “On the one hand there was Daisy, who wanted to gouge my eyes out – “ Clint paused to listen to her laugh, melodious yet husky at the same time, reverberating deep into his bones, and only then did he continue, “ – and on the other hand, there was Kate, who kept coming back, yet _refused_ to acknowledge that we were even friends.”

“I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Yeah, but she was still a pain in the ass. I love both of them so much.”

Natasha raised her glass with a dramatic flare. “To little siblings.”

“To little siblings,” he laughed and bumped his soda into hers. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

They settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes after that, eyes drifting to each other occasionally, fleetingly. The redhead was surprised by how natural this interaction felt, how not-at-all-awkward the lunch was, despite her initial dread. It was almost like they’d done this a thousand times, just siting in each other’s company, being honest about things that had never before come up in a conversation.

And she didn’t feel  _obliged_ to tell him anything. He didn’t expect her to share her life story. She  _wanted_ to do it. Maybe not all of it, but the parts she’d gotten over, the parts she wasn’t ashamed of or the ones that didn’t bring pain… Them she wanted him to know. How unusual – for her to not only let someone in, but to also allow them to get a real look at her, all the dents and broken parts, and the holes left gaping, the patched-up pieces. It was relieving. Freeing. It felt surprisingly…  _good_ .

He listened to her, actually  _listened_ , and not just to pretend he cared. He gave back more than he got. And his smile did things to her she’d only felt when she was on stage, under the spotlights, in front of hundreds of people as their eyes bore into her expectantly. She’d never thought anything could compare to that feeling. She’d never thought a  _person_ could bring that up in her.

She was slowly losing her footing on the matter. If he was making her let her guard down… how long would it take for her to get hurt again? How long would it take for her to hurt  _him_ ?

“I can see you thinking,” Clint chuckled. “There’s a little line between your eyebrows and it’s like I can see the wheels turning in your brain. What’s wrong?”

Natasha shrugged, tried to wave off his concern. “Nothing important.”  She nudged the remaining pieces of her lunch in her plate and looked at him questioningly. “Can I give these to him?”

“And he’ll love you eternally,” he laughed. She smiled and leaned down to pet the dog before feeding him. “Is that healthy?"

“Probably not,” Clint shrugged, “but he’s devoured far unhealthier things.”

“Yeah?”

“Ice cream, a cardboard box, several species of flowers. And he’s fine, so a little pizza won’t hurt him.” She raised her eyebrows at him, then the dog, then him again, and tilted her head to the side. He put his hands in the air before she could say anything. “The flowers weren’t _my_ fault. Daisy thought it was a genius idea to make him a social media page to promote the store too. He doesn’t like the flower crowns she makes him but he’s too nice to eat them in front of her.”

N atasha blinked at the incredibility of the story. A laugh bubbled out of her.

She could avoid him and everyone around him all she wanted, but what would that accomplish? It certainly wouldn’t be as fun as talking to him or as nice as having a friend bring you coffee in the morning. It would be a headache to go out of her way just to pretend to want to have nothing in common with them. It would also be a lie. She liked them. She wanted to spend time with them, as ridiculous as it seemed to her.

He’d missed his friend. 

She’d missed hers as well. That’s what she told the warm feeling in her stomach, anyway.


	6. Lilac and Gardenias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's alive! (She was seriously motivation- and inspiration-deprived.) Thank you for your patience. To whoever's been waiting for this chapter for so long, you have [Lilybird](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/daisylincs) to thank. She's been a wonderful friend and kicked my ass into writing mode. "Poked me with a metaphorical stick", as she put it. Thank you so much, sweetie. You're a lifesaver 💖

In the following months, the pizza place became their spot. Every week, usually on Friday, they’d leave ‘the kids’, as Clint referred to them, in charge, while they grabbed lunch. Natasha had a suspicious feeling that Daisy and Lincoln weren’t particularly charmed by that arrangement, but they never outright said anything.

And even though she tried multiple times, she never seemed to be able to get out the words she wanted to. She never seemed to be able to tell him why she was _there_ , in front of him, in the shop across from his. A phantom pain would nestle in her left leg, right where her dreams had shattered along with her tibia, every time they sat down at their usual table. And every time, it would stop the words right in her throat.

Regardless, she did her best to let him get to know her better than she’s ever let anyone else. She told him of her parents, of her first parents. She told him of Yelena. She told him she’d always had to meet great expectations. But she never mentioned ballet. Not when it came to her. Only when she was talking about her sister. She always steered the conversation away from the topic, heart pounding in her chest, scared he’d ask the wrong question. He never did, though, like he could feel where to thread lightly.

The closer his birthday got, the more nervous she became. She’d figured out what to get him weeks ago. The only issuewas if he would like it. The gift bag stared at her every night from the top of her dresser, planting doubts in her head.

Liho meowed and a clash followed. Natasha sighed. She’d started thinking taking in the stray hadn’t been the best idea. The cat had its own opinion about the plants around the house and it was getting tiresome to have to clean up after it. It kept her company when she was alone, though, and Yelena liked it. If only it would stop trying to destroy the apartment.

The door slammed behind Yelena as the woman groaned. Sometimes Natasha wondered how her sister could be so loud.

“Rough day?” she asked. The blonde just grunted in answer as she headed for the medicine cabinet.

“I don’t get it,” she said finally, weakly, leaning back against the sink in defeat. “Why am I not enough?”

Natasha frowned and walked over to stand next to her sister and wrapped an arm around her. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“It has to be, though. I’ve been trying to get promoted for two years. And there’s always something missing.” She bowed her head, nails scratching at the flat surface of the glass in her hands. Her lip quivered and Natasha’s heart clenched. “Why am I not enough?”

She tightened her hold on her little sister as Yelena shook with silent sobs. Natasha understood why she was so upset, why it mattered so much to her. It mattered to everyone of course, but Yelena had Natasha’s shadow to step out of, the redhead knew. No matter what the two of them did, someone always compared them. So the strain on the younger woman was even bigger.

No matter how much pain the memories of the stage brought Natasha, she could at least be glad Yelena no longer had to try to keep pace. It hadn’t been fair.

She led her sister to the couch and tucked her head underneath her chin. Liho trotted over and made her way to the blonde’s lap.

Natasha knew Yelena would pave her own path. She was destined for greatness, it was obvious. She just had to be patient, not only with everything else, but with herself too.

* * *

Two weeks later the redhead was staring down the bag that contained Clint’s gift with the flowers next to it, when the bell at the door chimed and Lincoln snuck in with a look over his shoulder and a friendly grin.

“Hey,” he greeted as he rushed towards her counter. “We’re throwing a last-minute-surprise-party. Could you maybe… distract Clint for like half an hour?”

Well, that hadn’t been in her plans for the day, but…

“Sure,” she grinned. She could make that work.

She’d made a new sign a couple of weeks back, when visiting _Cupid_ had become something regular. _‘_ _Cupid’s Flowers, across the street’_.

“Just take any orders I get while we’re out,” she called after Lincoln on his way out, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Thanks, Nat, you’re a lifesaver.”

* * *

“So how did you come to acquire a dog?” She asked as she fiddled with the leash in her hands. Clint had offered it to her shortly after she’d snatched him away from the shop. She was playing dumb so far, like she didn’t know it was his birthday. He hadn’t brought it up either, but she imagined it would make an awkward conversation starter.

He puffed out a breath and chuckled. “It’s a pretty long story. In short, I got in a fight, he tried to help and almost got shot in the process.”

Natasha halted in her tracks. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

“It’s okay, the bullet missed him. But he ended up in the middle of traffic and I had to rush him to the vet. Barely made it. That’s how he lost his eye, actually.” Lucky looked up at him, as if he knew they were talking about him. Natasha glared at him.

“That is _not_ what I meant.” Her expression melted into concern and her tone softened. “You were shot at?”

“Oh,” Clint shrugged, “yeah, but that was a long time ago. I used to get into all sorts of trouble back when I was a teenager, Phil didn’t have it easy. I’d never had a gun pulled on me before then, though. That kind of got my head straight. Phil said I couldn’t take care of a dog if I couldn’t take care of myself, so I did my best to show him that I could do both of these things.”

Natasha kept staring at him, eyes flickering in consideration, until she shook her head like she’d come to a decision and declared, “You’re an idiot.” She resumed walking without another word.

They’d gone to the park to walk Lucky. She’d told Clint she needed a break from the wave of clients that had been surging in the past week. He hadn’t said a word, just whistled for his trusted companion and led her out the door, no questions asked.

And then she’d lost track of time. That rarely happened, and only when she was alone, dancing.

They’d been out for close to an hour when she finally checked her watch and cursed under her breath. They’d turned around immediately. She couldn’t help but marvel at the way he could distract her from the rest of the world. From her responsibilities, from her own thoughts. It was dangerous.

Then again, she was never one to run away from danger. Maybe the two of them were’t that different after all.

“Nat,” he called after her and jogged to catch up. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh, family dinner,” she stammered. She’d all but frozen on the spot with nerves. She didn’t think she was ready for a repeat of February.

“Oh, cool.” Natasha couldn’t help but notice the slight change in his face, how his smile had shrunk just barely. “How’s your sister doing?”

He’d noticed earlier that month over lunch that something was worrying her, so he’d pestered her until she’d given up and admitted that she was concerned about Yelena. She’d told him how she was struggling, pushing herself to the limit again and again, demanding more of her body than it was able to give, all because she had a point to prove. He’d told her over ice cream about half a dozen times he’d had to patch up Kate because she, too, had had a point to prove.

“She’s doing better, I think. She doesn’t seem as desperate as she did two weeks ago, so that’s definitely an improvement. I just hope it’s not a calm before the storm.”

“She’ll be okay,” Clint smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. Natasha looked up at him, surprised at their closeness. She nodded and turned back to the sidewalk. They were a few buildings away from their shops and she had something in mind that she’d been thinking about the entire morning.

She grinned and quickened her steps, taking his hand in hers in an attempt to distract him from looking towards _Cupid_. She wanted her surprise to be first. “I want to show you something,” she told him over her shoulder as she opened _The Black Rose_ ’s door to be greeted with the sight of Daisy fiddling with her phone.

“Hey, Dais,” Clint waved as Natasha handed her the leash and dragged him to the storage room where she’d stashed his present.

“Can I go?” the teenager asked uncertainly. She was out of there the moment she heard Natasha’s affirmation, conflicted whether she should scream or laugh at the implication of what had just happened… or was about to happen.

“Look,” Natasha started as she held the bag behind her, heart pumping faster and faster. “I wasn’t sure which size to get or if you’d actually like it but… happy birthday.”

He took the gift gingerly, fingers brushing hers, twitching ever so slightly at the unexpected tingle from her skin, and grinned so widely that Natasha was worried about his face splitting in half.

“ _Nat_ , thank you. You didn’t have to –“ She waved her hand at him.

“I wanted to. But you don’t have to wear it or anything, I just thought…”

“I’m putting it on right now.” The redhead scoffed.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

Clint shrugged. “I don’t need to. I trust you.” They stared at each other for a few seconds, each vulnerable in their own way. Then he dug in the bag to take out a white T-shirt and laughed at the cartoony dog with a piece of pizza hanging off its mouth at the front. “Where did you _find_ this?”

“Pure luck,” she laughed. “I just… immediately thought of you when I saw it. I couldn’t not get it.”

“You know me well, then.” Natasha was overly conscious of the lack of space around them, between them. The air had grown stuffy, thick with anticipation and tension.

Clint’s sudden movement had her taking a step back as he tugged his shirt over his head in one swift movement.

She’d seen plenty of shirtless men before, but her breath still got stuck in her throat as his entire torso stretched as he stuck his head through his new shirt’s opening.

 _Fuck_.

Natasha wondered how he could be so… ripped for a flower shop owner. His frame was wide, yes, but she’d never expected to see defined muscles beneath his shirt – _she’d expected to see anything at all?_

She quickly lifted her eyes as the white fabric covered his stomach, but found that the situation at his shoulders wasn’t much better.

“Okay, that’s definitely small,” she chuckled as she inspected the cotton stretching to its limit around his biceps. “I can exchange it if you want?”

He folded his arms with an exaggerated pout and Natasha clenched her teeth when his arms doubled in size. He shook his head stubbornly. “You’re not touching it. It’s perfect. I love it.”

“Clint, don’t be ridiculous. It’s ripping at the seams. Can you even take it off?”

“Don’t care. I’m never taking it off.” She gaped at him.

“Come on, give it back, I’ll bring you the right size tomorrow.” She reached to tug on his arm teasingly and he took hold of her wrist, wrestling it away from him with a snicker.

“Nat, stop it. I love it. You couldn’t have found me a better present if you tried. And it will stretch out, don’t worry. It’s not that big of a deal.” His thumb running along her wrist was the only thing she could focus on. She lifted her eyes to his face and realised how much closer they’d moved, until all that separated them were merely a few gulps of air.

Natasha jerked away, reaching back for the door of the small room.

“Well, um.” She swallowed. “I’m glad you like it.” With that she turned around and left him standing there awkwardly in confusion. He shook himself off and followed after her without a word.

She took out her new sign and hung it up on the door, the basket he’d sent her dame’s rockets in gripped tightly in her hand and filled with his own special arrangement. Irises, purple jasmine, peach blossoms, tuberoses and pink and yellow tulips. She’d even double-checked, worried not to get something wrong. She’d put in a special card, though.

While she usually wrote down both the flowers and their symbolism, this time she’d only listed the ingredients of the basket, with a short, cursive message at the bottom. ‘ _Google them yourself’_ .

“I need to take these to _Cupid_ ,” Natasha turned to Clint. He furrowed his brows at her.

“What for?”

“It’s a surprise,” she smirked, still trying to recover from the effect of his body heat mixing with hers, of the view of him half-naked in front of her.

“I can take it for you?” he offered, and the redhead rolled her eyes.

“Just _go_.” She locked the door behind them with a warning look in Liho’s direction, and followed him across the street. She’d given them enough time. Daisy must have told them they were on their way too. Natasha prepared herself for a loud and boisterous greeting.

Clint started laughing before he even opened  _Cupid_ ’s door.

“ _Surprise_!” Everyone screamed, crammed in the small space of the shop. Clint turned to look at her with a grin.

“Were you in on this?” Natasha smiled and pushed the basket in his chest, then walked over to talk to Daisy.

“Liar,” she heard Kate accuse Daisy before she turned to the counter to help herself with some pizza. 

There were balloons scattered all over the shop, some more dangerously close to cacti and pointy leaves than others. There wasn’t just pizza – Natasha also noticed a couple boxes of donuts and even cupcakes. Pastries and several bottles of soda stood on a table off to the side.

Clint turned to Kate when she called his name. “Nice shirt,” she smirked. He ignored the suggestive undertone of her voice and instead beamed at her.

“Thanks, it’s from Nat. It’s like it was made for me, don’t you think?” She chuckled and leaned to whisper in his ear.

“For you or for your bedroom floor?”

“ _Katherine_ ,” he hissed, sparing Natasha a nervous glance as Kate cackled. 

“Hope you enjoyed your walk. We weren’t actually expecting you to come back from the storage room so soon, though.”

“Are you serious?” Clint gaped at her, and she just smirked. He pursed his lips and shook his head, hoping he wasn’t blushing. He motioned the redhead over and put a hand on the small of her back, guiding her to his parents. “I think it’s about time you meet the original owner of _Cupid’s Flowers._ ”

* * *

Yelena had been quiet during the whole ride to their parents’ place. 

The family dinner might have been a convenient excuse to get out of having to turn Clint down again, but it was also a tradition every week.

Natasha refrained from asking any questions. Both of them hated being forced to divulge information involuntarily. That’s why she liked Clint so much, she supposed, he always gave her space, he was patient, knew when not to push it. She’d never had a friend like him. She still refused to admit there was something more in the long looks she gave him or the warmth in her chest whenever he did something nice for her. It wasn’t just his kindness she was appreciating. It was… It was the way he genuinely cared about every single person in his life, about his dog and not-her cat, about his regular clients and the strangers that only ever entered his store once.

No, it wasn’t just his kindness she was appreciating, it was also his entire being.

She found herself thinking about him constantly throughout the day, every free second she had, right before she fell asleep, if she even  _could_ sleep. 

She wasn’t certain what exactly this was she was feeling. She just knew she wasn’t ready to confront it.

Yelena was out of the car before Natasha could even fully stop. The redhead observed her sister while they prepared dinner, taking note of every twitch, every uncharacteristic micro-expression with dread coiled tightly in her stomach.

“You look different,” the younger girl observed as she gently nudged Natasha with an elbow. “I take it Clint liked his present?”

Her sister scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I look  like I normally do.”

“No,” Yelena squinted. “You’re happy. Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. He better not screw it up or I’m coming for his head, tell him that.”

“Lena,” Natasha sighed, but the blonde waved a hand and sat down as Melina and Alexei joined them. Yelena took a deep, shaky breath and looked each of them in the eyes.

“I have some news,” she declared, hands intertwined in front of her plate. Tears twinkled in her eyes. Natasha’s insides clenched in anticipation and nerves at the sudden change in her demeanour. But then a smile rose on Yelena’s face as the little droplets rolled down her cheeks. “I got promoted. I’m a soloist.”

Her sister was the first to reach her and wrap her in her arms, as tightly as she could, whispering over and over again how proud she was. No one deserved it more than Yelena. She’d been working her ass off, staying later than most corps, giving everything she had in her. It was about time.

“I can’t believe you kept quiet about this the entire day,” Natasha chided after they’d calmed down a bit.

“You think it was easy? I almost called you three times.”

“Well, why didn’t you?”

Yelena shrugged. “I wanted it to be special. I’ve been a wreck these past few months. I wanted to celebrate properly, not just announce it over the phone.” She smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. “Besides, I didn’t want to interrupt your alone time with your boyfriend.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, more annoyed at the fact that her sister always seemed in the loop on whatever was going on at the  flower  shops.

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” she grounded, at the same time both her parents asked, 

“What boyfriend?”

Natasha swore, if looks could kill, she’d have murdered Yelena on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: In case anyone hasn't figured it out, Daisy _SO_ told Kate Clint and Natasha were gonna jump each other in the storage room. That's why Kate called Daisy a liar 🤣
> 
>  **Clint's flowers:**  
>  Iris - passion  
> Purple jasmine - uniqueness  
> Peach blossom - I am your captive  
> Tuberose - dangerous pleasure  
> Yellow tulip - sunshine in your smile  
> Pink tulip - happiness
> 
>  **Title:**  
>  Lilac - first emotion of love  
> Gardenias - secret love


	7. Red Chrysanthemums and Irises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I promised I'd have this one up by the end of the week... Would you look at that? I'm on time! (AoS ended and I don't know what to do, I feel so empty inside help) I have never been so angry with myself as when I was writing the final scene - it was like I suddenly forgot how to write this kind of things and just ughhhh
> 
> Again, MAJOR shoutout to [Lily](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/daisylincs), without whom I have no idea what I'd do.
> 
> P.S. I apologise for the cheesiness at the end. It wrote itself  
> P.P.S. I've updated the tags as we're tackling some trauma here, if you have any suggestions as to what else I can include as a warning, please let me know!

Natasha was in the middle of completing an order when Clint walked in and stood off to the side, patiently waiting for her to finish.

“Hi,” she smiled at him when they were finally alone.

“I have an offer for you,” he said in a way of greeting. Natasha leaned her forearms on the counter before her with a grin.

“Let’s see if you can intrigue me.” He moved closer, leaning against the opposite side of the desk.

“Well,” he started, “seeing as it’s our anniversary today, I thought –“

“Our what now?” Natasha deadpanned and Clint chuckled at her. He’d baited her, she realised, and she’d fallen right into it.

“Well, not technically, that was a couple of weeks ago, but anyway,” he waved a hand, “You’ve been officially open for a year now.”

She blinked at him. Had a year already passed? She’d been so busy these past months she’d barely had time to breathe. Dates were important, yeah, but only when it came to work. And with Yelena barely coming home anymore, there hadn’t been anyone to remind her of the milestone.

She shrugged. “Time flies, huh?”

“Yep. But I’m not here for chit-chat. Come on, we’re going celebrating.” Clint reached to pull her from behind the counter but she backed away with an incredulous look.

“Right now? Are you kidding? I can’t just up and leave in the middle of the day, you know that.”

“Nat,” he pleaded, “it’s almost time for your lunch break anyway, Daisy and Lincoln can handle things.”

Natasha sighed, exasperated. “I’m pretty sure they’re sick of covering for us all the time. Besides, I don’t have lunch breaks, I just tag along for yours.” He furrowed his brows and leaned back.

“Wait, really? You should have said something!”

“I didn’t –“

“No, wait, _why_ don’t you have lunch breaks?”

“What would I need them for?” Natasha put her hands on her hips in a ridiculous standoff. “It’s not like I get _too_ tired around here.”

Clint hesitated. He wasn’t sure what effect his words would have, how much right he had to get into her business. But right then, he was too worried about her to care about any boundaries he hadn’t got around to crossing. He spread his arms, an expression of disbelief on his face.

“How about _have lunch_?”

“I do have lunch,” Natasha protested. “Sometimes. When I don’t have clients.”

“You _always_ have clients!”

“Hence the ‘sometimes’.”

“ _Nat_.”

“You’re worrying too much,” she insisted. “I don’t starve myself, okay? I’m just not always hungry at noon, not since… I started working here. Besides, it’s way past lunchtime.”

Clint heard the hesitation in her voice, the panic when she almost said something she hadn’t intended to. He offered her his hand with renewed determination.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“Clint,” she sighed, resisting the urge to rub her brow in frustration.

“Please?”

She inhaled, eyes flickering between his own and the extended palm awaiting her answer. She took his hand and nodded as his fingers tightened around hers.

* * *

“What are we doing here?” Natasha asked in confusion as Clint locked the car behind them and led her to the shooting range, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. They’d had pizza at their usual place and then he’d whisked her off to his car.

“This is where Kate and I come to let out steam,” he told her with a gentle smile. “Or, you know, the place to look for me in case I drop off the face of the Earth.”

“I didn’t know you were into guns.” He shook his head.

“Not guns.” His friend waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t offer a further explanation. She followed him to the other end of the range, an open space just at the border of a woods. 

She stopped a few feet away from where he dropped his bag, cautious and expectant. She doubted he’d brought her there to kill her, it was almost ridiculous at that point of their friendship. Still, she’d heard of crazier things.

“Before I met Phil,” he started and unzipped the duffle, “I got tossed around the system a lot. Not many people wanted a kid with a hearing impairment. And uh… I got that because of my biological father.”

Natasha watched as he took out a quiver of arrows and a weird-looking, mechanical bow, focus never wavering from his words. She dreaded that story already, chilled to the bone from the possibilities and implications of his last sentence despite the heat of August.

“He wasn’t cut out to be a father,” Clint shrugged, and Natasha almost reached out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He wasn’t cut out to be a husband, either. Violent. Cruel. Heartless. He was a drunk and an abuser. Used to beat all three of us until we passed out. Honestly, I’m still surprised he could stop himself from killing us.”

His eyes met hers, glistening in pain and sadness. She met his hand in the middle of the space between them, running a thumb over the glove he’d just put on as she took a step closer to him. Clint gestured to his head with the bow still clenched in his other hand.

“I started having trouble hearing when I was seven.”

“Clint.” Natasha wrapped his gloved hand in both of hers, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about this.”

“I want to. I want you to know.” A pang ran through her heart. He wanted her to know this secret of his, someone that caused him pain, something that was as deep a part of him as his shop and his real family, the one that loved him and treated him with love and kindness, like he deserved, like _everyone_ deserved.

She knew he would never pressure her into telling him anything. She knew, because he wasn’t the product of his father’s violence. He was the product of his own heart, the influence of his dad’s patience and trust and belief, he was her friend, her  _best_ friend, and it was obvious how much he cared about her. 

Then she realised, he didn’t  _have_ to pressure her. He didn’t have to convince her to open up, didn’t have to do anything, because she was tired of keeping secrets. She was tired of having to avoid an entire topic, something that could bring her joy, if she just stopped wallowing in the darkest corner of her memories. There was so much joy she’d felt on stage, so much fulfilment and freedom. She didn’t have to be restricted only to the grief and sadness.

She made up her mind. She wanted to show him something too, but not until he was done here. Not until this weight was lifted off his shoulders.

She squeezed his hand and nodded.

“He drove himself and my mom in a tree when I was eight. I-I used to have a brother. He was a few years older and… he ran away when I was eleven. Just… left me there, like I didn’t even exist.” Natasha trailed with eyes the single tear that rolled down his cheek. Clint sniffed and shook his head. “And that’s the origin story of the problematic kid Phil stumbled upon. I used to get into so many fights. When I was in high-school I… I picked the wrong sparring partner, so to say. It fucked up my ears further. Phil was furious at me and I remember thinking two things then, when we were at the hospital. ‘He’s going to get rid of me now’ and ‘What if he hits me too’ just alternating. I was so terrified,” he chuckled. “Maybe it showed, but he just – my dad just took a breath and hugged me.”

He smiled down at her, something lighter and peaceful erasing the pain on his face. He untangled her hands from his and reached for the quiver on his back, drawing an arrow.

“We learned ASL together.” The arrow pierced the air and embedded itself in the bullseye. Clint nocked another arrow. “He helped me work through my issues.” _Whoosh_ , next to the first one. He drew again. “He taught me what really mattered in life. Taught me how to duck.” _Whoosh_. “He told me to find a safe outlet for all my issues, something I could pour it all out in and release it.” 

He looked at her and shrugged.  _Whoosh_ . “I’ve always liked watching the Olympic archers. Thought I’d give it a try. And then, when I met Kate… I saw so much of myself in her. She picked up on it right off the bat. We’ve been coming here every time one of us has a bad day.”

“Is that often?” 

“Not since I met you.” He offered her the bow with an inviting smile, eyes warm despite their redness. She reached out hesitantly.

“I’ve never shot an arrow before,” she admitted. Clint chuckled. 

“I’m right here.” He guided her stance and positioned himself behind her, lifting her arm where she needed it. Then he stepped back. “Take a breath,” he instructed her, and she wondered if he really was still as close as she imagined him to be. Had he whispered that or was it just her? “No rush. Release when you’re ready, just as you breathe out.”

Natasha tried to clear her head. She couldn’t let herself get distracted. What had he said?  _Pour it all out and release it_ . She tried to. She took her anger, that never-ending void of rage she lived with every day, and she imagined it seeping into the point of the arrow, like the tension elevating off her body. 

She let go. The arrow landed in the middle ring.

“Nice one,” Clint nodded. “My first shot landed in a tree.”

Natasha turned to face him. “I have a good teacher.” He laughed and leaned in conspiratorially.

“So did I.”

“You know what else you had?” Natasha smirked. “A dad who owns _Cupid’s_ flowers.”

“ _Come on_ , not you too.”

* * *

They stayed for over two hours, taking turns to shoot and catching up for the past few days.

“– and she’s just so excited to go to NYU, I don’t have the heart to tell her she’s going to hate it,” Clint was saying when Natasha stopped him. He looked at her quizzically.

“Do you have some more time?” She heard the scratchiness of her voice and cleared her throat. “I’d like to show you something as well.”

He let her drive, all the way to Manhattan, and didn’t ask questions. He could see she was nervous. He didn’t want to scare this new determination away.

Natasha led him to what appeared to be an empty dance studio. He looked around in confusion. He knew Yelena was a dancer, but why were they there?  He turned to ask her just that when he saw her sitting on the floor, cradling a pair of ballet shoes.

“I went through a lot of ballet instructors as a child. One of them retired recently. Let me use the studio when I asked her, until she found a buyer. It’s been over a year since I last performed. I’ve been coming here for the past couple of months. Just… trying to stretch out my muscles, nothing too complex. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” she said as she criss-crossed her legs.

Clint shook his head and leaned on the wall next to her. “It’s okay. You weren’t ready. I understand.”

“I started taking real ballet classes when I was five. My teacher before that thought I was ready, much more focused and flexible and disciplined than most kids my age.”

“I can imagine that,” he smiled.

“Well, my next instructor didn’t think so. At least not when my mom wasn’t around. I had to listen over and over again how I’d never achieve anything, how I couldn’t dance to save my life. There was always something lacking for her. I think she thought it was tough love she was showing me.” Natasha met his eyes, so incredulous and angry.

“It’s abuse she was showing you,” he snapped. “I can’t believe people like that are even allowed near children.” She smiled sadly.

“They are, because no one calls them out on it. I didn’t. I still… I still haven’t told my mom, even so many years later.”

“Why not?” His voice had dropped, low and quiet, echoing in the emptiness of the room. She shrugged.

“I was scared, I guess. That she won’t believe me. That it would only get worse. And now it just seems pointless to bring it up. It’s irrelevant at this point. So anyway,” she went on, cutting him off before he could tell her what she already knew, what she refused to admit, that it still mattered, it would always matter, “I started working even harder. I did everything to be perfect. I kept pushing myself,” she chuckled humourlessly, “just like I keep telling Yelena to stop doing.”

“Nat…”

“I know. I know that now. But back then, ballet was everything to me. I didn’t care about anything else, about anyone else, there was only ever my career. I got my first promotion when I was twenty-three. And I loved doing solo parts _so much_. I loved _being on stage_ so much.” Her voice trailed off, like someone was turning it down. “And then last year, in February… I was just promoted as a Principal. I’d worked my ass off for this. I was ecstatic. Yelena and my parents were so proud of me. Mama kept joking that I may not have been with the Bolshoi, but I would become the best in the world if I kept it up.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes as her throat clogged up and her eyes brimmed with tears.

“We were rehearsing the Black Swan’s dance with the prince. He just had to lift me. It wasn’t even a hard move but… he said his hand slipped on my leotard. Said it was an accident, he was sorry. I broke my tibia. The bone ripped muscle, it was poking at my skin from the inside.”

Her voice quivered and her breathing turned shallow, flitting. “They said I couldn’t dance again. Said I was lucky to still be able to walk. My whole life just…” Natasha squeezed her fists in her lap and raised one to wipe away her trickling tears. “My whole life just fell apart before my eyes because of a stupid accident.”

Clint recoiled at the anguish and grief in her voice. He’d let go of his old life with relief. She’d been forced to let go of hers against her will. He kneeled down beside her and wrapped one arm around her back, drawing her to his chest, while his other hand snaked in between hers, entangling their fingers together.

“It’s okay,” he whispered and pressed his lips to her head as she buried her face in his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you perform, Nat. But for what it’s worth… I’m not sorry you ended up across the street from me.”

She chuckled over a sniff and pulled back to  rub at her eyes. “Yeah, me neither.” She took him in, the gentleness on his face, the sincerity in his eyes, his ever-present concern for her, the way something in him told her he would always be there when she needed him. She couldn’t  explain the feeling that overwhelmed her right then and there. “ The thing is,” she started shakily, “I don’t miss how I felt  out there that much anymore.”

Clint smiled at her gently and cupped her cheek, running a thumb over it. “No?”

Natasha shook her head,  gravitating more and more to him . “ It used to make me so happy but now… Nothing makes me happier than you  do .”

“Yeah?” he breathed out, not managing to get out more than that, hypnotised by their closeness, stunned by her words, drowning in the scent of her skin. As she nodded, her nose brushed his. She wondered if she should stop, if she should pull back now before it was too late, before she’d done too much damage to their friendship.

Except, she didn’t want to stop.  Not with him.

Her hand moved as if on its own,  attaching to his jaw, her fingers caressing over his stubble. Natasha didn’t hesitate this time.  She leaned in, crossing the millimetres left between them. 

T he mere brush of his lips sent a tingle throughout her entire body, setting her on fire. She’d kissed before, but the feeling she got then, the sense of peace, of  floating, of relief and yearning at the same time, satiation and craving for  _more_ , she’d never felt that with anyone else. She wondered if he was feeling this too, or if was nothing special to him, and she  held her breath as she pulled back, dreading his reaction, a million thoughts already racing through her head.

She should have controlled herself. Why had she thought he wasn’t over her? She’d turned him down  _months_ ago. Why did she have to go and make things –

Clint interrupted her thinking process as he chased right after her, capturing her lips in a soft, but still firmer, sweet kiss. She leaned into him as he wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest.

“Please don’t run away,” he begged when they stopped to breathe, still in each other’s space, foreheads pressed. Natasha shook her head, steady palm resting gently against his cheek.

“I’m right here,” she promised, echoing his words from earlier that day. “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Title:**  
>  Red Chrysanthemum - I love you  
> Iris - passion, fire

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you liked it! All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also check out my other works if you feel up to it ;)
> 
> Sources: [ (1) ](http://thelanguageofflowers.com) [ (2) ](https://www.almanac.com/content/flower-meanings-language-flowers#) [ (3) ](https://www.teleflora.com/meaning-of-flowers?promotion=NATURALMARCH5) [ (4) ](http://www.allflorists.co.uk/advice_flowerMeanings.asp) [ (5) ](https://www.reddit.com/r/interestingasfuck/comments/5i66xh/everyone_has_probably_heard_of_the_victorian/) [ (6) ](https://books.google.bg/books?id=t9XODwAAQBAJ&pg=PA106&lpg=PA106&dq=dame%27s+gilliflower+symbolism&source=bl&ots=fgG3TukL_F&sig=ACfU3U23UnU9SyIjEkstQkuxsJnHyYpdIg&hl=bg&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiG--iUpMjpAhWuyqYKHWcABPcQ6AEwCnoECAoQAQ#v=onepage&q&f=false)[ (7) ](https://www.flowermeaning.com)[ (8) ](https://florgeous.com/category/flower-meanings/)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [ohwriteiforgot](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com)


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